


halves of a miracle

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Consensual Desert Bluffs, Desert Bluffs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gift Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, eyefucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning home from the hospital, Kevin and Kostya share a moment of intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	halves of a miracle

**Author's Note:**

> for [catcitycat](http://catcitycat.tumblr.com).
> 
> Read the tags. For the love of god, _read the tags_. Proceed with caution; here there be (consensual, fluffy) eyefucking.
> 
> Also, prerequisite headcanon: Kevin cut out his own eyes for Reasons, which I will hopefully one day explore in another fic.

The blindfold falls from his eyes with a whisper of sound, cotton on flesh, cotton on carpeted floor. From somewhere to his left, Kostya makes a noise in the back of his throat. Without any other input to go on, Kevin can't tell if it's out of surprise, disgust, or a mixture of the two, but he feels shame bubble through him nonetheless, embarrassment pricking his face with heat 

He turns to hide his face because he doesn't know what else to do - the blindfold may as well have been swallowed up by the void for all Kevin knows of its location, and he can't bring himself to the level of debasement required to grope around for it on the floor.

"Don't," Kostya chides lightly, and Kevin stills like he's been struck. Kostya's hand, sudden on Kevin's jaw, is a shock, the point of contact striking through Kevin like electricity through water, and there's something akin to a sob building in his throat.

"I know it's bad."

That's not true - of course Kevin doesn't really know, but he can imagine, thick ropes of shiny pink scar tissue, bright shining hollows where eyes should be. He's brought his hands to the empty sockets before, mapping sensations with shaking fingertips and he knows the way it hurts still if he pushes hard enough, knows the pattern of bumps and raises that mark where he sunk the blade in and where the doctors had to stitch him together to keep the edges smooth.

He's expecting something else - the truth, maybe, as soft as Kostya can make it, but instead Kostya tilts his head so they're aligned and kisses him. It's gentle and kind and a million other things that Kevin can't begin to name and his hand finds the side of Kostya's head, fingertips pressing into his cheeks, his thumb stopping just under the dip of his eye.

"You aren't scared?" Kevin asks against Kostya's lips, and Kostya cants his head forward until the tip of Kevin's thumbnail is neatly aligned with his eye.

"Not of you," Kostya says hoarsely, "never—" and Kevin kisses him. Their lips meet and part, shared breath wet and sticky between them. Kevin doesn't know if they'll make it to the bedroom at this rate - he's not even sure if that was the plan, really, but judging from Kostya's thigh between his legs he's not far from the mark.

And Kevin has no idea how this is possible, how he can be pressing against Kostya like this is _normal_ , but he's half hard at the thought of it, hands gripping Kostya's shoulders like he's going to disappear and leave him with the faint scent of cigarettes and nothing else. If anything, the knowledge that if he steps away and turns his head just right, Kostya will, for all intents and purposes, cease to exist, has Kevin's insides roiling with anxious pleasure.

Kostya's hands slide under Kevin's t-shirt and press against his sides, hard enough that Kevin feels pinned, held in place - the way he likes it, the way Kostya remembers he likes it. And when Kostya pulls away to suck on the underside of Kevin's jaw, he lets himself groan and rub his erection against Kostya's thigh. His hands are shaking and he doesn't know what to do with them - they fist in Kostya's shirt almost as a default and Kostya's sigh of approval against Kevin's neck has him shuddering.

"I'm gonna suck you off," Kostya says into the juncture of neck and shoulder, skin muscle and bone meeting tongue teeth and lips. "But first I wanna try something, okay?"

"Yeah."

It comes out more quavery than Kevin had intended, and Kostya kisses him on the mouth for it, then the corner of his lips, the apple of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the flat of his brow and then—

"What," Kevin breathes, " _Kostya_."

He can feel the twitch of his lips as Kostya smiles against the pucker of scar. He presses another kiss where Kevin's eyelid ought to be, and this time Kevin feels the flick of tongue, shivers when the air cools the line Kostya's licked.

"Good?"

It is, and that's the weird part; there's a part of him that feels as though he should be repulsed by this, that Kostya should be repulsed by this, but instead Kevin feels as though his entire body is wound tightly, coiled in on one point of existence - Kostya's lips in the socket of his eye - one focus, one loci, and if something changes Kevin will snap and fray like kite string in the wind.

He rocks against Kostya instead, makes a keening sound when he feels the bump of Kostya's nose hit the underside of his brow, pleads wordlessly when Kostya laves at the empty tissue like it's something erotic instead of something horrific. Kevin can hardly remember to breathe and his hands are at Kostya's nape, fisting in his hair, grinding desperately against his thigh, achingly close despite it all.

Kostya pulls away before he can finish, kissing him between the eyes before falling to his knees. Without anything to hold him steady and without any visual reference Kevin feels as though he's adrift, lost in a sea of darkness where he's unsure of even his orientation, static and floating.

"Kostya—" 

"'M here," he says and then his hands are on his thighs, unfastening his belt and undoing his zipper, fingers deftly unbuttoning him. Kevin sighs when Kostya slides his boxers down, and then Kostya entwines one of his hands with Kevin's, leads him until Kevin's hand is safely resting in Kostya's hair, threading his fingertips through the thick curls.

There's no warning, just Kostya's mouth, hot and wet around Kevin's cock. It's been weeks, weeks since Kevin's even been able to jack off, fear and humiliation and the hospital's lack of privacy keeping his libido in check. But he's _home_ and Kostya is home, and they're in the living room of their apartment and Kostya is on his knees, Kostya is taking Kevin's cock in his mouth and Kevin can imagine it almost perfectly, the way Kostya always looks up at him, eyes shining and mouth stretched full of Kevin's cock.

He's going to come - he can feel the tightness in his stomach, the tingling in his balls, the unmistakable feeling of being close to falling from an edge that will surely break you. And Kostya - Kostya hums around him like he always used to, draws back until his lips are wrapped around the head of Kevin's dick, sucking lightly with his tongue circling the tip of him and Kevin is gone before he can even think to warn Kostya.

Kostya stays in place until Kevin is finished, swallowing around him and letting Kevin slide loosely out of him. He helps Kevin put himself back together, pats him on the cheek and kisses him gently. Kevin can taste himself in Kostya's mouth, salty and familiar and he chases it with his tongue, curious and hungry still, until Kostya groans and Kevin remembers belatedly that Kostya is probably still hard.

"Let me," he says and maybe Kostya nods, or does something else Kevin can't see - twitches his lips upwards or shifts towards him, but Kostya's hand on his shoulders are guiding him down, down to his knees until Kevin can bump his nose against the bulge of Kostya's dick.

He can undo Kostya's belt but he struggles over the button and he only feels a little bit ashamed when Kostya does it for him. There's a rustle of fabric and the hiss of a zipper and Kevin can smell him before he feels him, the heavy and familiar scent of Kostya's arousal.

He opens his mouth instinctually when Kostya presses himself against it, sighs when he feels Kostya's hands in his hair. He can pretend that it's the same as before, that he's closing his eyes like he did the first time, because the way Kostya looked at him was too intense, too intimate.

Kevin slides his tongue along the underside of Kostya's cock, messy and aimless, rolling his tongue between the fold of his foreskin. He keeps one hand on Kostya's thigh and lets the other cup Kostya's balls, rolling them in his hands as Kostya shudders above him. He wants to take them into his mouth and suck them, wants to lap at his perineum and maybe it's because he can't see what he's doing, or maybe he's just clumsy today, but Kevin moves and Kostya moves and Kevin can feel Kostya's dick press against the scars of his left eye.

He wouldn't think anything of it normally, might even try to laugh it off with a joke, but Kostya groans at the contact with Kevin's name on his tongue and Kevin suddenly has other ideas. His hand finds Kostya's cock, tightens around it in purposefulness and guides it into his empty socket.

It's not very deep, and Kostya's cock is a little too wide, but he can feel the head of it rest there, precum blotting against him in wet beads and Kostya sounds breathless above him. He jerks his hips once, twice, as if unsure of himself, fucking gently into Kevin's hand, cock bumping awkwardly against the alcove of Kevin's eye.

"Are you sure?" Kostya asks, voice wrecked, and Kevin squeezes him, presses him a little harder into the dip of his eye.

"Okay," Kostya says, more to himself than to Kevin. "Okay - okay, _god_ Kevin."

His movements become more urgent then, as if he's rutting against Kevin, thrusts shallow. Kevin can feel the way his cock scrapes against the scar tissue, can hear the smack of skin on skin and wonders what it feels like, shiny hard scars on dick, wonders what it is about this that has Kostya aroused. He wonders if Kostya feels the same vulnerability, a fragile kind of intimacy that leaves Kevin feeling more exposed than he's ever felt with anyone. It's what Kevin likes about it, likes enough to feel the vague stirrings of arousal in the back of his mind despite his recent orgasm.

"Close," Kostya warns, and Kevin hums, shifting on his knees. The anticipation is what gets to him the most, unable to gauge Kostya's facial expressions to see when he'll come; it's only the telltale sigh that gives Kevin any clue, before Kostya is coming on his face, hot spurts that settle in Kevin's eye and drip down his cheek, thick and slow.

"Christ, Kevin," Kostya murmurs above him, and then, "let me get something to clean you up.

With Kostya's come drying on his face, it's easy to remind himself that he isn't alone, that Kostya is here and that he is too, even after Kostya leaves the room. And when he returns with a damp cloth, crouching to wipe Kevin's face clean, it's the most at peace Kevin has felt in months.

"Thank you," Kevin tells him, half a whisper, and Kostya kisses the tip of his nose in response.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed," Kostya says finally, holding Kevin's arm steady as he stumbles to his feet.

"Alright," Kevin replies, squeezing Kostya’s hand for comfort. "Lead the way."


End file.
